


One Doodle That Can't Be Undid

by Quilly



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy Scare, also in which the author demonstrates that she ships them all over the place, and literally does not care if they are smooching or not, and reap the consequences, as it were, good kids best friends, in which asexual jane and gay dirk do the horizontal tango, playing with sexuality, testing the boundaries, they are just perfect together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quilly/pseuds/Quilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jane Crocker and, well, crap.</p><p>(Or, the one time Dirk and Jane do something stupid without doing the research first, the Universe bites them squarely in the behind.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Doodle That Can't Be Undid

**Author's Note:**

> Just a character study I did one afternoon and decided to post here as well as on Tumblr. Just playing around with Dirk and Jane's relationship. Enjoy!

Your name is Jane Crocker and, well, crap.

 

You glare balefully at the little plus sign and shake it a little, just in case. Are these things always right the second time in a row? They’re really cheap. However, you are out of money for a third, so you gather up your stuff, nod at the completely-high gas station attendant, and square your shoulders for the conversation to come.

 

First things first: the father.

 

He needs to be made aware, of course, because this is Huge with a capital H. When the two of you did it, it wasn’t out of passion or loneliness. No, you and Dirk Strider Did It because you were tired of the virgin jokes in the dorm room and he was curious about his sexuality and its definite perimeters, so why not, right? Two birds, one stone. Personally you don’t see the hype, although it was almost very nice for a minute there, and when both of your heart rates slowed down he sat up next to you with his head propped up on his arm and said yep, definitely into dudes, not that you’re not a rad lay, Janey, just doesn’t do as much for me. Ditto. Pretend it never happened, succeed.

 

Except now there’s this Thing and you’ve gotta talk about it.

 

Dirk’s obviously just waking up, yawning and tousling his hair after you’ve rung his doorbell six times, and when he blinks blearily at you by way of greeting you wave the pregnancy tests in front of his face. He squints, then his eyes open up very wide.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.” You show yourself inside and make your way to his kitchen, pouring out two bowls of cereal. His milk still hasn’t expired, so bonus. “What d’you think?”

 

He sits down very slowly and toys with his spoon. You inhale your cereal and pour out another bowl before he says anything.

 

“I guess—I guess we could. Y’know. Get it taken care of.”

 

Yeah, you were kinda thinking that. You’re nineteen and if your dad finds out he’s going to kill you. The impact of what you’re trying to be so nonchalant about threatens to overwhelm you for a moment before you swallow it back down hard and keep yourself together.

 

You sniff.

 

“Yep,” you nod. “I think…I think that’s what I wanna do.”

 

“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Man, Jane, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” you say, and when he looks at you, face full of guilt and dismay, you soften up a little and reach for his hand. “Really, Dirk. It’s alright.”

 

He knows you’re not acting like yourself. You know it. But if you stop acting like this devil-may-care lady who is full of coolness and lethargy you will probably lose it. You grasp for your discipline.

 

“It’s not,” he says, and his expression is getting darker by the minute. “We were stupid. _I_ was stupid. That whole ‘one time’ argument is like a signal to the universe that Hey, here’s some dumb kids about to do the do, let’s grace them with a punishment befitting their crime.”

 

He’s right. It’s unlike both of you to go into it without doing the research and preparing for the eventualities, but maybe he disregarded protection for the same reason you did—maybe he wanted to be spontaneous, maybe he wanted to be cool, maybe he wanted to feel _something_ for once. You’ve always been the straight-laced one, the one who blushed at compliments and didn’t watch the sex scenes in movies because they made you feel awful and squirmy inside. This is—wow, this is really dumb, isn’t it? You press your palms against your eyes.

 

You hear sighing, then an arm around your shoulder. You lean against Dirk as he rubs your arm.

 

“How is it the one time we’re not careful about every little thing, we get worst-case scenario?” he murmurs into your temple. You snort a laugh and shrug.

 

“Maybe the universe just hates us,” you say.

 

It’s comforting to know that he’s not heading for the hills. He walks you to class and agrees when you tell him to keep it down until you know for absolute sure. You’re gonna schedule a doctor’s appointment, and he’s coming. He readily agrees.

 

You feel different in a way you didn’t when you lost your virginity. After that night, you didn’t feel anything but sore and disappointed. Today, you feel jittery and nervous. Maybe a little nauseous. Are you gonna puke? You wait a few minutes but don’t taste bile so you guess you’re just working yourself up.

 

You sigh during classes and don’t pay much attention to Roxy when she chatters in your ear. You sleep with your gay best friend and get pregnant, what sort of sitcom is this? You’d like to complain to the writers.

 

You call him after the appointment is made.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Sup.”

 

“So…I made the appointment.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“It’s on Friday.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

There’s dead air between you and you don’t like it. It has never been this way between you, not even when you found out you had a crush on the same dweeb back in high school (at least, not for very long).

 

“Listen, Dirk, are you…are you okay?”

 

He breathes out a ragged sigh.

 

“I dunno, Jane.”

 

You chew your lip. “Well…do you wanna talk about it?”

 

“Not much to talk about. Not quite yet, anyway.”

 

You guess that’s true, but still are afraid of what his silences mean. You don’t know how to bring that up to him without pestering him, so you simply tell him to get some sleep and hang up.

 

You have nightmares about arguments that could happen if you find out you really are…y’know…knocked up, and they scare you, because Dirk’s never looked at you like that and his voice has never been that harsh but it all feels so real. You wake up in tears and you want to call him, but you’re kinda paralyzed with fear right now. Echoes of “ _this is your fault_ ” and “ _stay away from me_ ” play in a loop in your brain and try as you might, you can’t shake it on your own. You don’t wanna call your dad, or Roxy, or any of your other friends, because what’s the use in getting everyone worked up for something that might not even be a thing, right?

 

You massage your belly and cry into your knees and hope all this feeling stops sometime before you have class in the morning.

 

Dirk’s face is pale and drawn when you next see him on Friday, and you take his hand without thinking about it. He stiffens, and you let go, and after a moment he grabs it back again. You curl your fingers around his and squeeze as he starts walking with you into the doctor’s office.

 

“Hey, whatever happens in here,” he says, and you look at him, “I’m here for you. Alright? One hundred percent.”

 

You smile weakly, and he gives you a one-armed hug that crushes you into his chest.

 

You love him very much (but not _that_ way).

 

When the results come back as a glaring Negative, you almost cry. Almost, because you have to make it out of the office and take care of the co-pay and drive home, but you definitely could cry. Stupid emotions. You don’t know what’s stronger, relief, or a slight curling disappointment twining up your gut.

 

“Hey,” Dirk says, nudging you with his elbow, “come on. Let’s go do something.”

 

“Something” is milkshakes and swingsets, which you approve of, but you have to sort of forgo the milkshakes when you burst into tears in his car. He pulls over into a parking lot and awkwardly rubs your back as you empty out several days’ worth of anxiety and emotional roller-coastering, not to mention months of misery and homesickness and fear, and although you wish Dirk would take you in his arms again like he did after you showed him the pregnancy tests, you don’t wanna push it. He’s been through a lot lately, too.

 

He doesn’t say anything and you don’t know if that makes it better or worse, and when you’re done he pulls out a stack of napkins from the glove compartment and continues rubbing your back with a little more sureness.

 

“Thanks for coming with me,” you hiccup, and his hand spasms.

 

“Of course,” he says, with so much sincerity you almost cry again. “Like I’d let you go through something like this alone, even if it wasn’t me you screwed up with.”

 

“Nice choice of words,” you say, and he laughs, and suddenly you’re both laughing very, very hard, tears running out of both of your eyes this time.

 

“But seriously,” he says, and you sigh and lean back.

 

“I know,” you say. “I love you, Dirk.”

 

“Love you too, Jane.”

 

You go get those milkshakes, and you don’t know what’s better, the peanut-butter fudge goodness you’re slurping down, or the fact that you don’t feel awkward at all around Dirk as you both point out the cute guys walking by.

 

“It’s probably for the best,” he says thoughtfully. “Our kid would be a force of nature.”

 

You laugh. “Take-over-the-world force of nature?”

 

“Totally,” Dirk nods. You laugh a little harder.

 

The milkshakes melt and the sun goes down, and although you leave the park hand-in-hand you take comfort in the fact that nothing changed between the two of you. Not really.

 

He’s still your best friend, and you’re still his, and between student loans and hangovers and sexual awakenings and false pregnancies you know that’s never going to change.

 

You hold his hand a little tighter.


End file.
